Pillow Book
by Satsuki312
Summary: A body sits, torn and bloody, upon a ruined battlefield. Short red hair gently moves with the slight breeze. It is difficult to tell where the red is from blood, or natural colouration. Sky blue eyes stare out from black rings. Years of no sleep have finally come to an end as the soul leaves the body to its eternal rest. Here lies Gaara, Kazekage of Sunagakure, and he has died.


**Disclaimer; I do not own Naruto, nor Naruto Shippuden**.

I am considering making a number of these for other characters, so if you'd like to see a character, please tell me! I got the idea from reading another FanFic. You should check it out. (Nothing Gold Can Stay by Ayien id: 3726257).

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1. A body sits, torn and bloody, upon a ruined battlefield. Short blood-red hair gently moves with the slight breeze. It is difficult to tell where the red is from blood, or natural colouration. Sky blue eyes stare out from black rings. Years of no sleep have finally come to an end as the soul leaves the body to its eternal rest. Here lies Gaara, Kazekage of Sunagakure, and he has died.

It is not a sad death. He died protecting what was precious. He died having fulfilled his dream.

* * *

2. Born two months earlier than expected. A tiny baby too small and weak to cry at its painful entrance into the world. The child's mother holds her precious child close to her. She whispers words of love and protection, but they fall upon deaf ears.

The boy's mother dies, having never gotten the chance to protect the boy she named out of love.

* * *

3. Gaara is five years old. He walks down the streets clutching his teddy bear hoping that it will make all of the hateful stares go away.

He hears a voice and turns around. A smile creeps its way across his young face. Yashamaru stands there with his hand held out. He looks like Gaara's mother, so that is how Gaara comes to see him. How can a mother hate her own child?

Gaara's small hand fits snuggly into Yashamaru's larger hand like a puzzle piece. All the cruel glares seem to fade away. All that remains is the silent echo in the back of his mind.

* * *

4. One week later Gaara finds himself sitting in his father's office. He is telling him something important, but Gaara does not listen. Then a word comes into focus. The word answers all of the redhead's questions from the past five years.

'_Why does everyone hate me?_'

'_Why will no one play with me?_'

'_Why do I not have a mother?_'

'_Why do I hear a voice that no one else can hear?_'

"Jinchuuriki." '_Monster._'

* * *

5. Gaara is six. He is sitting on the roof of his father's office. He has hurt another villager. He does not mean to, but ever since becoming aware of Shukaku's presence, the sand acts on it own. Gaara has lost all control, and it hurts. He only wants a friend. He never asked to be hated, never asked the sand to "protect" him.

The sand jumps up and protects him for real this time. Kunai hit the barrier, but are hopeless against the absolute defense.

A man with a mask is quickly defeated without Gaara's bidding. He is a threat. Yashamaru is a threat.

He spews words of hate that cut deeper than any sword could ever hope to cut. When Gaara needed the sand's protection the most, the sand did not move. The words cut his heart and the sand let it happen.

Yashamaru dies. Gaara lives. He is a shell now, a tiny gateway for Shukaku. "Love." The wretched word adorns the boy's forehead. "Love only yourself and fight only for yourself."

* * *

6. Gaara is eight. Three more people have tried to kill him. The fourth lies battered and broken at the boy's feet.

Shukaku's voice has now moved from the back of his head to the very front. He has graduated from an echo to a booming commander whose words reverberate off the walls of the young child's skull. '_**Kill. Give me blood. I need more. You are alone. No one will ever love you like me. I am your mother. You must listen to your mother. Kill more. More blood.**_'

* * *

7. Gaara stands in his father's home. It is not his. Two figures stand in front of him. They look scared. They are scared. Gaara grins inwardly at their fear.

They look like mother and father. He hates them.

"Temari and Kankuro."

* * *

8. Twelve years of living. Twelve years of proving his existence it worth something. Gaara sits atop a tree, blood running down his forehead. A blonde boy sits across from him on a different tree.

'_Why is he so strong?_'

'_What if he destroys my existence?_'

"They're my friends!"

He has friends, but he has lived in the darkness like Gaara. He has love. Why him? What is wrong with Gaara? Gaara wants to be loved as well.

* * *

9. The villagers look down upon him in fear and curiosity. They wonder why he has changed. Why he is so eager to help them now. Their curiosity is slowly starting to eat away at the fear in their eyes. Gaara knows it will take some time.

He tries anyways. He wants to have friends and people to protect. He wants to be like Naruto. He wants to become the Kazekage

* * *

10. Several months have passed. Gaara now stands in front of a boy he nearly destroyed, protecting him. A man stands before the two. He has darkness in his eyes, much like Gaara used to see in his own, but there is a glimmer of love in them. The man attacks with bones. The man attacks because if he does not, then he will fail the person he loves.

Why does an evil man have more love than him? Gaara hates this opponent. He can love and he is evil. His chest hurts.

He does not defeat the man. An illness saves Gaara's life. Something so arbitrary saves Gaara's life and he hates it. It weighs heavily on Gaara's mind for the next week.

* * *

11. Enemies invade the village. Gaara defeats them all and saves the villagers. They rejoice at the boy's feat. Respect glimmers in their eyes. Gaara is unsure of how to act and stands there awkwardly hoping for it to pass.

That night Gaara sits on the highest point of the village under the stars. He takes peace in numbering the stars. He traces the constellations with his finger, naming them and recounting their story as he goes. He does this until the dawn steals his night sky.

Temari and Kankuro run into him as he walks back to his apartment. They have been looking for him all night. He cannot understand why. They hug him and the sand does not react. They are not enemies. They will not hurt him.

"Friends."

"No. Family."

* * *

12. Fourteen years old. Fourteen years of carving his name into the stone to prove that he lived. He stands tall, cloaked in white. He has achieved his dream. He is Kazekage. He silently vows to himself that he will be better than his father. He will save the village, not destroy it.

He knows that he has risen to power, only because the council wished to keep him on a leash, but he will break that leash.

* * *

13. Gaara walks down his streets, wishing to remain inconspicuous like he used to, but everyone recognizes him. Whispers follow him down every street. He silently curses his flaming red hair and black circles encompassing his eyes. His days of stealthily walking down the street are gone. The Kazekage is seen and loved by all. He smiles.

* * *

14. A strange white bird descends upon the village. Gaara leaves his office without a word. He knows this bothers his brother. His Kazekage robe is unceremoniously tossed into some unsuspecting closet in the hallway he makes his way to the roof. He wonders if he will remember where he discarded it later.

He engages the Akatsuki member in a fight.

_Boom._

Falling. Faster and faster still the wind around him trying to push him up. Thud. He lands on something. Everything goes black.

Everything hurts. Everything fades from black to white. He is... floating? Gaara cannot find the ground. Does he need to sit up or land on his feet?

There is something playing out in front of him. His childhood. The poor boy that used to be him. The child is screaming, crying. He wants someone to save him from the voice inside his head. Gaara knows that no one will come. Did he know this then, as well?

Someone comes. Boy with clear blue eyes and bright yellow hair. Gaara opens his eyes. People surround him. What has happened? Tears roll down their faces.

He feels stiff and cold. His body aches as though his soul had been ripped out. He does not cry or wince. He is not weak. He has survived.

* * *

15. Gaara sits in his office reading and signing away the paperwork. His neat cursive flows elegantly from his pen. The mind-numbing work is slowly dwindling.

This carries on into the night. He finishes as the moon reaches its peak. Gaara leaves his office to watch the moon slowly descend to Earth, bowing curtsy to the Sun.

This is his day – nothing more than usual, nothing less than typical.

The silent Kazekage sits vigil to the dying night sighing in nostalgia, dreaming of the nights he spent in foreign lands completing missions.

He thinks to himself, '_long is the night to he who is awake._' He yearns for sleep, but does not know how to drift away into sweet dreams. No one has ever taught him how, so he looks eastward, awaiting the Sun's return.

Dawn comes for the sleepless dreamer caught in his own sort of dreams. The dreamer finds his way in the moonlight each night, but his punishment is greeting the dawn before all others. Gaara takes one last passing glance at the sky, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of the vanished stars before returning to his office.

* * *

16. War. It has descended upon the teenager's peaceful life of paperwork. It will offer excitement, but the Kazekage is no longer a child. He knows the cost. He wishes he could change it, but knows he cannot. Instead, he stands upon his pedestal hoping to spark a strong desire to live with his words.

It does not work. The thousands below open their mouths and war cries out from thousands of throats. It screams for glory and honour. Glory and honour will not come. These illusions will claim hundreds, and the Kazekage knows this.

A piece of him wants to turn and run, leading the innocent souls to safety, but knows this war is necessary.

* * *

17. Gaara cries in the arms of his loving mother under the caring gaze of his father. He was loved. He only wishes this love could have come sooner. How many lives would he have spared, then?

Gaara cries for the innocent souls he stole because he was too naïve to see the love his mother had given him. Her words have finally fallen upon listening ears.

* * *

18. He had arrived on the battlefield. His precious friend. Naruto.

Naruto has grown.

Gaara is both relieved and distressed at Naruto's presence on the field. He feels empowered when fighting beside his friend, but worried about protecting his precious person at the same time.

The Kazekage wordlessly vows to himself to protect Naruto without hindering him. He will show Naruto the strength he gave him not so many years ago.

The strength to protect one's friends and family and never give up.

* * *

19. Madara has arrived and the kages face off.

The Kages are on the ground within minutes. They stand up, Naruto's strength imbedded in their hearts.

Again, they find themselves on the ground, chakra near rock bottom.

Again and again the kages are beaten down. Gaara cannot stand up again. He tries, but flails helplessly on the ground. His blood mingles with the sand beneath him.

A ripping pain tears its way through Gaara's chest as Madara goes from Kage to Kage with a _tanto_. He can feel it chasing his soul from his body.

Gaara's fingers are turning numb and he can no longer feel his face. His internal organs are seizing up. He can no longer breath. The last air in his lungs comes rushing out in a single word.

'_Sayonara._'

* * *

20. Here beneath a blood red moon lies a hero too young to know what life really was.

His name was Gaara. He was a Jinchuuriki. He was a monster. He was a human. He was a child who never had the chance to taste life's sweet fruits. Everyone dies, not everyone grows old.

The boy's clear blue eyes, glossed over from the Grim Reaper's visit, remain open staring at the never-ending night. The ocular moon stares down at his corpse with no remorse.

His red hair is gently swaying in the breeze.

Soon he will turn to sand, like the many he claimed in his time.

Here lies Gaara of the Desert, Kazekage of Sunagakure, Jinchuuriki of the ichibi Shukaku, a child of sixteen painfully short years. All his titles, his hard work, turn to dust and fade away. Such a sad tale you do not know whether to laugh or cry because you know it will happen to you.

Gaara, who so desperately wanted to be loved, failed and has rotted away into oblivion.

* * *

Notes:

Sayonara = Goodbye in the sense of forever

There are several poems and works of fiction slightly alluded to. I claim none of these, and to be honest, I can't even say what all of them are because I pick them up as I read them.


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